


Marriage of Convenience

by CavannaRose



Series: Star Wars Fics [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 20:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Your father is a wealthy merchant, thriving under the Empire. The next step, ally his family with those rising in power. Luckily for him, and unlucky for you, Orson Krennic seeks a wife, and you will suit him nicely, whether you wish it or no.





	Marriage of Convenience

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I will write more for this or not, it was just an idea dancing in my head late at night.

Despite how you railed and cried, despite how you refused to eat for nearly a week, despite your dramatic attestations that you would slit your wrists before doing as he demanded, your father insisted. He wished to renegotiate trade contracts this year, and a personal connection to the Empire would assure his success. As such, you would marry Orson Callan Krennic, and he would hear no arguments on the matter, nor would he cave to your tantrums. The fact that someone as highly situated as the Director of Advanced Weapons Research was interested in his daughter delighted your ladder-climbing father, almost as much as it horrified you.

A week. That's how long you had been confined to quarters as a result of your continued refusal to acquiesce. Your latest attempt to evade the upcoming nuptials had been the last straw for your father, and he had decreed that you would remain out of the way until it was time to meet your future husband formally. As your door slid open on the seventh day, revealing the stately form of the patriarch of your family, you braced yourself, spine stiffening for the impending fight.

Taking in your stiff posture and disheveled appearance, your father closed his eyes for a moment, looking his advanced age as the exhausting prospect of another battle with you stood before him. His tenacious attitude had made him one of the wealthiest men under the Empire, outside of the military and politicos, but unfortunately for him, you had inherited more than your share of that stubbornness. Perhaps if your mother had been able to bear more children, or if he had sought children outside of his primary marriage as his own father had recommended... but that had not been the path he chose. Opening his eyes again, features schooled into a disapproving scowl he stepped into the room, letting the door close behind him. Your jaw set almost identically to the way his did, and bot of you know that this fight would perhaps be your worst yet.

"This has gone on quite long enough, young lady. Krennic is a well respected-"

"Orson Krennic is a hideous, ladder-climbing weasel and I will not have him!" You interrupted, face red with emotion.

"Enough!" You had never heard your father yell before, the shock of it stunned you into momentary silence. His brows were furrowed, a vein near his temple pulsing with rage. "You are my daughter and you will do your duty to your family or I swear by the Empire that I will kill you with my own two hands. The deal has been struck and the contract signed. If you shame me in this..." he left the threat looming in the air, your ample imagination supplying details far more frightening than anything he might suggest.

Still, you refused to be cowed, your inherent defiance demanding that you try. "I would rather lie dead at your feet than naked in that man's bed! How dare you sell me like just another sack of grain? If you make me do this you will be dead to me, and the first chance I get I will abandon the unspeakable troglodyte you have pawned me off on, making you a pariah and a laughingstock in these high-blown circles you so pathetically and desperately seek to curry favour within."

His hand lashed out, striking your cheek with a ferocity that startled you almost as much as it hurt. Even then you did not back down, and the sounds of the ensuing argument rattled the ship. It was the worst fight out of all the battles the pair of you had had over the years, and in the end your father thundered out of the room, his victory hollow as the sound of your angry weeping chased him along the corridor.

It was three more days before the Director's cruiser met your father's vessel. In all that time you did not leave your rooms, nursing bruised face and feelings. On the day of Krennic's arrival, there was much pomp and circumstance as he descended into the hangar, formally greeting your father while you stood seething behind him, eyes down-turned in a mockery of the meekness he expected of you. Your father had almost forbidden you from attending when he had seen your chosen garments; but there had not been time, so you stood clad in your oldest and plainest dress. Still, your absence would be questioned more than your garb, and you had timed your entrance to ensure there would be no time to change. The pulsing vein was back at your father's temple, but even that was barely noticeable as he joyously greeted Krennic.

As he was introduced to you for the first time, he clasped your scandalously bare hands in his heavy gloves. "Admittedly, I expected much from the daughter of Aydeleo Taulyf, but such stunning beauty and humbleness was beyond my imagining." They were pretty words, but his tone was sharp and his grip on your hands, though not quite crushing, was fierce enough you could not pull away. Years of practice allowed you to school your features before raising your eyes to meet his gaze. Though Krennic's expression was pleasant enough, his eyes were ablaze with barely contained rage. He had caught the slight you had intended for him, and he was not amused. A tremor of fear trailed up your spine. In eight days this man would hold dominion over your life, perhaps you had been too hasty, too headstrong, at least in this circumstance.

"Apologies, Director Krennic," the words practically stuck in your throat, but his ire demanded soothing. You may have been defiant, but you were not stupid, and a man like Orson Krennic would not forgive easily. He had clawed his way to the top, to achieve his goals, and you were simply another rung on a ladder, destined to be conquered. It was best to appease him with soft voices and pretty lies, at least until you had a better idea. "I was working in the cargo hold, monitoring my father's business interests when I lost track of time. I assure you that next we meet I shall be garbed as befitting the presence of a man of your station."

Behind the Director your father looked appeased, but your future husband's unwavering scrutiny indicated that he would be harder to win over. Still, he too knew how to play the game, and his tone was far more pleasant as he spoke again. "Such devotion you show your father's business, both myself and the Empire will be much benefited by such work ethic after we are wed." He dropped your hands, bowing slightly and then following your father to the quarters granted him for the rest of your wedding journey, no less than six Storm Troopers accompanying him. There were more soldiers aboard his small vessel, but they would remain there unless needed.

You waited until the entourage was out of sight before you allowed the facade you'd struggled to maintain drop, your whole body shaking with dread and misery. You had been too impulsive, as usual, and Krennic now knew you did not favour the marriage. Worse, he clearly did not care.


End file.
